


This Class is Riddikulus

by avalonroses



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Boggarts, Crossover, M/M, Pottertalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonroses/pseuds/avalonroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur’s Boggart was both the worst and best thing to happen to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Class is Riddikulus

This was hardly a ‘treat’, as their professor had indicated, and Arthur couldn’t fathom why everyone else was so bloody excited. Sharing his most dreaded fear with the class of students he had grown up with and come to despise (well, most of them) was inarguably the complete opposite of a treat.

Arthur eyed the antiquated wardrobe with distaste; his reflection in the eroded mirror doors eyed him back. It began to tremble, the old, brittle oak creaking with the movement and Toris Lorinaitis, a timid Hufflepuff boy, waited for whatever would emerge from the wardrobe, his wand wobbling in his hand. The doors cracked open and a towering, pale-haired person stepped in front of him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Honestly, the Hufflepuff needed to get a grip. He was no longer a mousey first year tailing behind the intimidatingly affection Slytherin, Ivan Braginski. Everyone had considered Ivan a tyrant in their younger years but most (though obviously not all) had come to realise Ivan simply wasn’t very self-aware and uninformed in the nuances of normal social behaviour.

“Toris,” Professor Héderváry gently prompted at the wide-eyed teenager.

He stirred before the Ivan-boggart could reach him and cried ‘Riddikulus!’. Any alteration to the boggart wasn’t initially noticeable and Arthur was sure the spell hadn’t worked but the Ivan doppelganger crashed to the floor, long legs sprawling in the air and, much to the class’ delight, a pair of hot pink stilettoes came into view.

The faintest hint of a grin touched Arthur’s lips. It was a blessing that Ivan had completed his education with Hogwarts the previous year.

“Mr. Kirkland, your turn,” the professor said. “If you’d just stand here, please.”

The class’ laughter faded and Arthur felt a splinter of anxiety as he walked in front of the graceless Ivan look-a-like. Arthur had never really considered his greatest fear, he wasn’t one to dwell on such things and he assumed his boggart would manifest into a commonplace fear: a family member dying in a tragic accident or failing his NEWTS.

Ivan stood, all human expression draining from him, and the boggart morphed into a different shape. Arthur’s breathed snagged and his stomach whirled like the transforming boggart before him but he kept a cool head, he was a Ravenclaw after all. He didn’t have any incriminating fears, surely.

The boggart’s transformation stopped abruptly and the finished product levelled its eyes with Arthur’s calculatingly. The expression seemed wholly out of place on the normally cheerful face that Arthur was very familiar with.

Alfred F. Jones, head boy and heartthrob of Gryffindor, grinned coolly at Arthur.

Arthur felt his stomach turn into hot, sickly liquid and just when he thought it couldn’t any worse, Alfred began to talk.

“Don’t look so worried, Artie,” he taunted, his grin dark. “I’ve known your little secret for a long time.”

Alfred skulked towards Arthur in a tellingly un-Alfred way. While the idiot was too attractive for his own good, he was also a klutz and Arthur knew, after years of observation, Alfred wouldn’t even know the definition of skulk never mind be capable of doing it.

Even with that knowledge, Arthur took a step back and felt the beginnings of perspiration on his palms. On a subconscious level, he was aware this wasn’t actually Alfred Jones but it looked and sounded like him and Arthur had a dreadful feeling about this secret Alfred was cottoning on to.

“I know you’ve never really hated me, it’s just your deflection tactic, right? So I’d never figure out that you actually want to jump my bones, right, Arthur?”

Arthur dropped his wand and stumbled further from Alfred. He ignored the sharp hotness of tears accumulating.

“No–”

“Yes. I know what goes on in that head of yours, how you imagine me sneaking into your dorm room and having my wicked way with you. You wanna be my boyfriend, Kirkland? You wanna hold hands and gaze deeply into each other’s eyes?”

The words dripped into Arthur like he’d taken a bite of a bitter poison apple. The first of the tears wetted his cheeks.

“No–!”

There was a scoffing sound and it had come from Alfred. His lips were sneered derisively. “I’m not a queer like you. As if I’d ever date a guy, especially an ugly, nerdy one. I’m out of your league, Kirkland and–”

“Riddikulus!”

The Alfred-boggart twisted out of shape and took on the form of a tearful, silver-haired man who, Arthur could only assume, was his professor’s husband. At the command of Professor Héderváry charm, the man was cured of any ailment or injury and sporting sequinned lederhosen before the boggart was banished into the wardrobe.

The class was silent; Arthur could hear ghosts floating about at the opposite side of the castle.

“Okay, I’m going to finish class early today, pack up your things everyone.” The students rippled into life in a burst of whispers and shuffling papers. “Don’t forget your homework assignments for next week, no excuses!” Professor Héderváry called as the class squeezed out of the doorway. “Could you stay behind, Arthur; I think you could use a cup of tea.”

He nodded, sniffing and searched for his wand. The memory of what had just happened, in front of all his peers, rubbed raw and salty at his sanity. It nearly had him vomiting.

He’d have to move schools, change his name, and possibly move country. Somewhere obscure and uninhabited like the North Pole. Penguins seemed friendly.

The last students dribbled out of the classroom and Arthur risked a skittish glance at the door. Bad idea.

Alfred, the real Alfred, was lingering by the door in all his American, blond, blue-eyed glory. His lips were downturned with what looked like concern.

If Arthur hadn’t just been so devastatingly humiliated in front of his long-time rival and long-time crush, he would have been enraged because how dare Alfred effing Jones pretend to be concerned, acting as if he wouldn’t have a belly-aching laugh over this with the rest of their year as soon as he’d left the room.Of course, Arthur had just been humiliated so, instead, he really did vomit.

\--

The incident wasn’t mentioned. Arthur didn’t hear a peep. That didn’t mean it hadn’t circulated, it was easy enough to gather the entire school had heard about that hilarious DADA class where prickly Arthur Kirkland had, one, unwittingly divulged his much-speculated but previously unconfirmed sexuality and, two, exposed he had both dirty and romantic inclinations towards his arch nemesis and the most sought-after boy in school, Alfred Jones.

It was like trying to hold on to dry sand, catching the whispers about him. They ricocheted around every corridor he walked through but he could never spot people in the act.

Two days after the incident, Arthur was approached by his other arch nemesis, the one he hadn’t fancied the trousers off since puberty. Francis stealthily seated himself at the Ravenclaw table, beside Arthur.

Arthur was instantaneously on the defensive, wrapping himself in a layer of figurative storm clouds. He’d been waiting for Francis to butt his stupid French nose in.

“Nice to see you too,” the Slytherin said, grinning at Arthur’s scowl. “No need to be so angry, rosbif, I am not here to tease. Though I am ecstatic my suspicions have been confirmed after all these years.” Arthur gripped his fork tighter and Francis spied the motion. “Okay, okay, I am simply here to pass on a message.”

Francis slipped a piece of parchment in front of Arthur’s breakfast and left without another word.

Arthur was quick to check the parchment for any hexes or curses but he couldn’t detect anything. He was tempted to leave it or incinerate, it was most likely a joke at his expense anyway.

Curiosity won out and he unfolded the note. The script was smudgy chicken-scratch.

‘Meet me in the astronomy tower after last period today. Please. I triple-promise this isn’t a joke, scout’s-honour, I really need to talk to you. Alfred :)’

He didn’t incinerate the note, it wouldn’t be satisfying enough. He ripped it into tiny pieces and ripped those tiny pieces into tiny pieces, unaware there was a disappointed set of eyes following his every move.

\--

The supposed astronomy tower meeting passed without fanfare. Naturally, Arthur didn’t attend the so-called meeting. He had to see Alfred and his boy band followers in a lot of his classes and that was enough, as far as he was concerned.

Well, that was until he was cornered on his way to Charms.

Less than a week ago, Arthur would never have dreamed he’d be steered into a secluded alcove by Alfred, with his hand gripped around Arthur’s wrist and his muscular, Quidditch-trained body a hair’s breadth away from Arthur’s fingertips. He smelled lovely, pine trees and frosty morning air and flowers opening to the sun. Arthur had never been this close to him before.

A great deal had happened in less than a week, however, and the Ravenclaw was none too pleased about being manhandled by the oaf, especially since he could already feel the burn of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“Before you say anything,” Alfred said breathlessly, readjusting his glasses. “The note was cowardly and totally not heroic of me. It was stupid of me to think you’d show. And I get why you’re probably not gonna believe anything I say to you.”

Arthur opened his mouth, more than ready to protest but Alfred urgently cut him off.

“But please, just hear me out!”

Alfred tripped over his own inhale and his hand was trembling as he ran it through his hair for the third time since he’d ambushed Arthur.

“I like you too,” he blurted. “I really like you and I’ve liked you for a long and this isn’t the best way to confess to each other but I was planning on confessing before the end of year otherwise I would have missed my chance but the boggart thing happened and obviously that was really embarrassing for you and it really sucks that it happened but I’ve gotta admit, I’m really happy it happened because now I know you like me back and it’s…” Alfred smiled softly and finally met Arthur’s eyes. He looked a great deal younger when he was nervous. “It’s the best thing that has happened to me ever.”

The mess of information swirled in Arthur’s head and a very small part of the smaller teenager pondered the logistics of Alfred not having taken one breath during his speech.

Arthur felt dizzy, he felt sick. Oh dear god, he couldn’t be sick in front of Alfred again.

“You don’t believe me, I know. I swear this isn’t a prank or anything like that, I’d never hurt you… I mean, I know we’ve played some pretty dirty tricks on each other in the past but it’s different now.”

Arthur blinked and his mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish.

“Last year, I got really curious about my boggart, and I didn’t want to wait until this year, so I snuck into the DADA classroom after curfew to find out what my boggart was. It was really dumb and I was lucky Professor Héderváry was working overtime in her office because she heard me crying and saved me from the boggart. Ask her what my biggest fear was, please, she’ll tell you.”

“I…” It was the only word Arthur had managed and his voice cracked.

“Ask her about it and, if you still want to, find me afterwards. It’ll all make sense, I promise.”

The American boy was about to leave but he hesitated at the opening of the alcove. His eyes darted over to Arthur once, twice, before he visibly readied himself and ducked his head and pressed his lips gently, fumblingly, against Arthur’s.

All of Arthur’s brain activity had ended at the words ‘I like you’ coming out of Alfred’s mouth and, for a lack of better response, he returned the kiss, his heart thrumming in his chest. Alfred pulled away, a bright smile radiating his handsome face, and then he was gone, leaving Arthur shell-shocked and very late for class.

\--

“Professor Héderváry?”

“Yes?”

Arthur apprehensively reached to touch his lips, something he’d done frequently since Alfred had kissed him. Since Alfred F. Jones had kissed him. Arthur Kirkland. On the lips.

“What was Alfred’s boggart?”

The smile that graced his teacher’s lips was nothing short of delighted.

After consulting with his teacher, Arthur did find Alfred. As it happened, Alfred had certain privileges as head boy and one of them was having a room to himself. Arthur did most of the after curfew sneaking.

**Author's Note:**

> For USUK Secret Santa 2014.


End file.
